Wrote this last night
but didn’t get around to posting until this morning.
I’m tired. I’m with mom. She’s sleeping.
Today has been a good day for her. While I was gone, while my brothers were with her, she was able to get up and walk. She’s been approved to have cups of water and ice chips.
I have road maps for what I need to do next. Social security is something I need to get the ball rolling on. It’s possible there is home care stuff available which would help pay for me to stay with mom once she leaves the hospital. There are things to look into. Steps to take. I’m good at that. I’m good at getting things taken care of.
I made tuna earlier today so there’s food. I’ve eaten twice today which is more than I have been. I had a bottle of water, too. It’s been over a week since I’ve done any sort of exercise, but I could care less at the moment.
At least, I would care less except my muscles are reminding me that I’m not using them. They’re sore from sitting and sleeping in a hospital chair for so many hours so many days in a row. I hadn’t realized just how sore I was until I took the time to use coconut oil these past two days. The act of massaging and rubbing the stiffness out of my muscles made me realize that just because I’m not working out doesn’t mean they aren’t tensed up.
I’ve had some amazing conversations with Mother Earth. She helped to silence some of the evil voices in my head. The ones telling me that I’m not doing enough. My mom’s friend Aunt Brenda has helped with that, too. She said my mom would be proud of me. She said I come from a long line of strong women, and that I am strong just like them.
This event has caused me to reconnect with so many people in my life. Even my dad. At least a little bit. I let him know what has been going on. I keep him updated the same with everyone else. I doubt we’ll re-bond over this, but we still know the other exists.
Tomorrow should be a bit of a slower day. A more normal day. I have things like “do laundry” on the list. Check the mail. Figure out trash pick up. With mom doing so much better it feels like the worst part, the most uncertain part, is mostly over. Now that the fall is over we can begin the slow track up the path of recovery.
As I showered earlier, standing under the hot water, I realized how much easier I was breathing. I noticed that I was actually still breathing, and living, and how so was mom, and how much everyone has helped support me and my family.
As I stood in my mom’s kitchen using her cast-iron skillet to cook my breakfast I realized maybe this situation isn’t so awful. The family is together again, something we all have wanted, but haven’t made a priority.
I didn’t feel as lost because last night mom finally sounded like mom again. A very sick and weak mom, but my mom. Not a drugged patient. I needed. So much. I needed to hear her answer my question, “Do you know who I am?” with her slight eye roll of, “Jennifer.” As if to say, “Of course I know who you are. What type of question is that?”
I’ve taken care of a few of the procedures for the nurses tonight. I’ve watched them over the past few days and have learned how to care for mom so I don’t feel like a useless bystander anymore. I can write down numbers on the chart as we track different outputs. I’m learning how to read blood pressures and what numbers are ok and what ones we want to watch for.
I’m hoping when mom wakes up we can talk more about me moving to Vegas so I can get the ball rolling in that court as well. I might not be able to do much for a little bit, but I want to make sure, 100% sure, that mom is ok with me moving in with her. We joked about it all the time when we would talk on the phone, but it would mean a lot to me and make me more comfortable to hear her confirmation one more time.
The past week is catching up to me. I’ve slept most of the morning / afternoon. At least I think I have. And still I’m tired. It’s quiet here. There’s no beeping tonight for low oxygen saturation levels. The lights are low. There’s just the sound of mom breathing. The most beautiful sound I have ever heard. My own personal lullaby as I hold her hand while she sleeps.